And They All Fall Down
by Hikagi
Summary: Short stories that explores some of the darker aspects of ninja life. Mainly featured the Uchiha Clan, but ended up branching out. #5: Sai doesn't really understand what it means to be human.
1. It Only Takes One

Teaser: The first time he had killed was when he was seven. Sasuke could still remember the taste of blood in the air, the sight of dripping substances splashed against the walls like a young child's finger painting gone wrong.

Warning: I am not sure how accurate any of this information is, but let's all pretend that it fits, okay? And the ending is obviously made up, because I have no idea how this will all turn out in the manga/anime.

Notes: "And They All Fall Down" is a collection of shots, shorts, and bunnies. Most of them are a little bit on the dark side, and some will have themes that are not suited for younger children. I will try to stick to canon, but there will be times when it borders on the edge of becoming AU. All in all, I just like fiddling around with these characters. Let's hope that it works.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. This applies for future chapters.

* * *

"_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."_

_In the ninja world, death and pain were commonplace. Sometimes, in more ways than a normal person can imagine._

**And They All Fall Down**

"It Only Takes One"

By Hikagi

* * *

The first time he had killed was when he was seven, two days after Konoha held a joint funeral to mourn the passing of one of its greatest clans. Well, technically, the majority of the clan – there were still two survivors, after all.

He had been sick of all the stares and whispers behind his back, so when his current caretakers relaxed their attention from him, Sasuke took the chance and bolted. He didn't really have a destination in mind so long as it was away from people and their fake concern, their fake sympathy – their general fakeness.

It wasn't like he was a child anymore. No. Children were supposed to have a certain degree of innocence, and any semblance of that quality was stripped from the Uchiha when Itachi had slaughtered their family.

Sasuke could still remember the taste of blood in the air – the smell of copper overwhelming his senses. The sight of dark, dripping substances splashed against the walls like a young child's finger-painting gone wrong. He could still hear the sound of _that man's_ voice as it taunted him, could still feel the fear that pounded through every part of his body as red eyes stared at him dispassionately. He could almost imagine the pain of being tortured for hours on end in the world of Tsukuyomi, the pain of metal piercing his flesh and the trickle of blood dripping down his body.

It wasn't until he opened his eyes (_When had he closed them in the first place?_) that he realized that that last sensation wasn't a part of his imagination. His hand was throbbing and Sasuke quickly unclenched his fist, trying very hard not to wince when his fingers came away sticky. Looking around for something other than his clothes to use as a napkin, he spotted a nearby bush with large leaves and decided to make due with what was present.

And then, something moved under the branches and Sasuke was immediately alert, his fingers automatically picking up a kunai and a number of shuriken from his side pouch. His brain was reeling furiously and he tried to access the unknown entity, quickly cataloguing any information that might be pertinent. When his heart rate slowed down to an acceptable level, he chanced a few steps closer, prepared for anything that might pop up.

What he hadn't expected was to find a small, scared animal hiding beneath the cover of leaves. Sasuke couldn't really make out what it was, but one of its legs was bent at an odd angle, and he knew that it had somehow gotten hurt. He reached out to pick it up, transferring his weapons to his other hand when the creature struck out in panic and bit him. Startled, the boy jumped backwards out of the bushes, taking the animal with him, and in the clear light of the afternoon, he saw that the creature now attached to his arm was none other than a weasel. A weasel, just like Itachi's namesake…

Sasuke saw red.

Suddenly, it wasn't just any old harmless creature that had attacked him. It had been Itachi who had caused him pain – had taken away his family and any semblance of a normal life.

"_Hate me."_

The young boy growled, emotions building up in the pit of his stomach, a fire raging rampant deep within his heart.

"_Despise me."_

Sasuke charged at the figure of Itachi, making good use of the kunai in his hand as it slashed across his older brother's neck. Itachi's image wavered, slowly disappearing with the anger-induced haze.

"_Maybe tomorrow. I'm busy today."_

"Wait!" he shouted as his hand reached up to fiercely grab at the missing-nin's collar, unwilling to let go. Because letting go meant that he had forgiven the murderer, and he didn't want to do that just yet.

"_Too slow, little brother."_

Sasuke tightened his grip when he saw that Itachi's lower body had already faded away.

"I said wait, you bastard!"

But he was left all alone, just like he had been for the past few…days? Weeks? He didn't know how long it had been since his life had gone to hell.

Well, not quite as alone as he had thought.

Looking down, Sasuke noticed that his hands were holding something warm and furry, and he recognized the weasel that had bitten him a minute ago.

…The weasel that had been strangled to death and was growing colder by the second.

Sasuke tossed the body back into the bushes where he had found the creature and stormed back to his caretaker's house, intent on analyzing everything he had experienced that day.

Because today had been the first time he had killed anything, and that made him one step closer to reaching his brother.

He wasn't sure if that thought comforted or disgusted him.

* * *

The first time he had killed another human being had been on a mission shortly after the Wave Country incident. Something inside of him had snapped after seeing Sakura thrown into a tree; Naruto had been knocked out by a powerful genjutsu earlier.

It had been a simple C-ranked mission to help a band of merchants to another part of the country. The worst they were expected to come across was a group of bandits.

Obviously, no one gave that memo to the opposing forces, because there had been a missing-nin in their ranks. A missing-nin that had been strong enough to keep Kakashi busy for the two or three minutes they needed to defeat two out of three of the jounin's genin team.

And then, it was up to Sasuke to help the merchants get out of the way. It was up to him to carry Naruto and Sakura to safety when it was obvious that no one else could do it.

And it was also up to him to help Kakashi contain the situation.

But now his rage was building, just like that first time when he had strangled the weasel to death five years ago. Sasuke wasted no time in dawdling and drew out his weapons, intent on taking out as many people as he was able.

He didn't notice when the faceless bandits had shifted, but every single one of them looked exactly like his brother had on that fateful night. Soon, Sasuke was fighting all of them, blocking all of their blows, countering all of their attacks. He was sparring full-contact with Itachi, no padding or weapons involved. Then he was engaged in shuriken practice with the ANBU captain.

But it didn't matter. He defeated every version of Itachi that came up, stuck a kunai in his heart, twisted a sharp wire across his neck, used a well-placed katon to burn him to a crisp, slit his brother's throat like he had always imagined since the funeral. But that bastard always stood up afterwards, almost as if death couldn't take him like it had so many others.

Finally, Itachi fell down for the last time, and didn't bother getting up. Sasuke took the opportunity to let out a shaky breath and relaxed. He felt a hand on his shoulder and the genin quickly spun around, prepared to fight another Itachi.

But at the last second, he recognized his teacher's face and withdrew his kunai.

"Sasuke," Kakashi said, gently. "You didn't have to kill them all." The jounin inclined his head in a direction, gesturing to the fallen bodies that littered the dirt road.

It was then that he realized that all the instances of fighting Itachi were false, and the nameless, faceless bandits registered in his brain.

Sasuke felt his stomach churn and he turned away and heaved its contents on to the blood-stained ground.

The first time he had killed another human being had left him feeling queasy and sick. That night, he dreamt about the time when his mother died before his very eyes, and he wondered if killing a bunch of bandits was anything like killing off an entire clan.

And if so, what did that make him?

* * *

After that, it was fairly easy to dispose of his enemies in an efficient manner without completely losing himself like he had with the bandits. Weeks later, they had been charged with another mission, and Sasuke took the opportunity to gauge his abilities. The routine didn't change, even when the Uchiha registered the concerned glances that Sakura shot him every now and then, the angry glares that flitted across Naruto's face, or the scrutinizing look that Kakashi discreetly chanced. It didn't matter, so long as he was getting closer to his goal.

But Kakashi had taken him aside after a particularly gruesome battle that had left Naruto in a foul mood.

"He's right, you know," the jounin commented idly.

'_What's wrong with you? How can you think so little of a living being? Don't you care at all?'_

"It's not like I care," Sasuke replied, shrugging off the incident.

"Well," the older man dusted off his pants. "I can't tell you to change your morals. But I can tell you this: Be careful, Sasuke. It becomes something of an addiction, after a while. You can't stop, no matter how much you try, and the power is too tempting to resist."

"What would you know?"

Sasuke stormed off in the direction of their camp, and didn't exchange words with another soul for the remainder of the day.

"Because," Kakashi whispered into the wind, "I was like that too."

After that, Sasuke merely threw himself into his fighting with more passion and fervor than before.

* * *

The last time he killed someone was well after he had betrayed the Leaf and abandoned his team.

…The last time Sasuke killed anything was when he was fighting against his brother.

_Fin._

* * *

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the abrupt ending! But I was up all night and didn't get very much sleep because this idea wouldn't very well leave me alone! But anyway, how many people are interested in seeing more shots? Not all of them are about Sasuke, but they still feature a hint of darkness here and there.

"And They All Fall Down" was inspired by the nursery rhyme, "Ring Around the Rosie".

_Yatsuka Hikagi_

_March 06, 2007_


	2. Defective Blood

Teaser: Uchiha Mikoto could count on her hand the number of instances where her performance had been less than satisfactory because she had gotten sick or injured. This was one of those times.

Warning: I'm really bad with history, and that includes fictional history as well. As said before, I'm not sure if any of this fits, but if you'd kindly ignore the blatant discrepancies, I'd be very grateful. Either that, or I'm going to have to apply a semi-AU label in the near future.

Notes: Same stuff from last chapter applies.

* * *

"_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."_

_In the ninja world, death and pain were commonplace. Sometimes, in more ways than a normal person can imagine. _

**And They All Fall Down**

"Defective Blood"

By Hikagi

* * *

Uchiha Mikoto had been extremely worried when she had fallen ill during one of her missions. As a jounin, it was her duty to Konoha to carry out her orders without fail, and so it was also her duty to make sure that her body was in top condition at all times. She could count on her hand the number of instances where her performance had been less than satisfactory because she had gotten sick or injured.

This was one of those times.

Briefly, she wondered if the enemy had somehow managed to poison her food without her noticing. It wasn't an outrageous notion, and she wasn't so arrogant as to think too highly of her skills. She knew her limits, after all.

But for the Cloud to try and kill one of the Leaf's ambassadors and one of his jounin bodyguards? The idea, while it wasn't too farfetched, held very little credit. Kumogakure was in desperate need of peace, and to attack a potential ally in such a way…

Mikoto shook her head. They wouldn't dare try anything to her, even if she was only a bodyguard.

The mission lasted as long as it took for Kumo to sign a treaty with Konoha. She only hoped that it wouldn't take more than a few days.

* * *

Two days later, Mikoto was feeling decidedly more unwell. She didn't dare show any signs of weakness to the others incase that it would reflect badly on Konoha's reputation. But when she was alone in her room, her limbs would shake, her breathing would become shallow, and the ever present pain in her head would threaten to take over.

The only consolation was that the ambassador was safe. This strange sickness was only affecting her and hadn't touched her colleagues.

She could have passed it off as an unusually strong case of her body not coping well with her menstruation cycle, but that wasn't supposed to happen for a few more days at the very least.

Then the room suddenly spun and she felt herself falling. She tried to catch herself, she really did, but her body refused to respond and she could only watch helplessly as the wooden floor rushed up to meet her.

* * *

She awoke to find a very concerned shinobi crouched above her face, hovering nervously as if unsure what to do. Mikoto recognized him as one of the newly-elected chuunin who had been assigned to the mission under her care. For some reason, she couldn't remember his name.

"Uchiha-san? Uchiha-san? How are you feeling?"

She grunted when she found that she didn't have the energy to respond with a decent answer. The chuunin took this as a good sign and hurried to rearrange her in to a more comfortable position.

"Just wait right here. I'll go get a medic-nin!"

* * *

Mikoto clenched her sheets nervously as she sat facing the medic that her subordinate had managed to find. She had yet to be diagnosed, and she wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that the other woman had taken one look at her and flatly said, "Congratulations. You've managed to get yourself sick, and on the job, no less. When did the symptoms first start?"

At least the medic hailed from Konoha too. Otherwise Mikoto would have been forced to reveal her condition to outsiders. She thanked whatever deities out there that the Hokage had had the foresight to assign a medic-nin to their little entourage.

Ten minutes later, she wasn't so sure if she should be shocked, scared, or relieved.

"Excuse me?" Mikoto's fingers trembled, and this time she knew why.

"You're _expecting_. And you haven't been eating properly, so part of the nausea is from dehydration and whatnot. As far as I can tell, you haven't contracted a disease, so your earlier fears of poisoning were entirely misplaced."

The jounin slumped against the wall, brain spinning around so fast that she didn't know what she was thinking anymore save for one thing.

_'I'm going to be a mom.' _

She had been so caught up with the unexpected news that she didn't remember what happened in the following days after Konoha had sent replacements and she had been sent home early. In the end, nothing was agreed upon, and Kumogakure had declared war on Konoha again. But Fugaku had been floored to find out that he was going to be a father, though, so she supposed that that didn't really matter. At least, not to her for the time being.

A little less than nine months later, she gave birth to a healthy boy.

His name was Itachi.

* * *

"What do you mean?" Mikoto had stood up when the medic had presented the news to her. "My child is perfectly fine!"

She cast a worried glance to her toddler who was playing with a pile of wooden alphabet blocks nearby.

The nurse sighed. "Uchiha-san. I am merely relaying what the others have found the last time you came in for a check-up. Itachi is not _normal_. There is something different about him."

But Mikoto had known this. Not at the very beginning, but there had been signs. Her baby had rarely cried, but he had been moving around in his crib since the second or third day. He didn't laugh, he didn't smile. And even after two years, Itachi hardly ever spoke. Sometimes she wondered if he knew how to speak at all.

And then, every once in a while, he would do things that scared her. Over a year ago, she had set her shuriken pouch on the kitchen counter after a very brief training session with her friends. After going to check that Itachi was safe in his play pen, she went to take a quick bath before preparing lunch.

When she had reentered the kitchen, however, her pouch had been opened and its contents were on the floor. The most startling part was that Itachi was sitting there, stacking them up neatly as if they were mere toys. And not just absently stacking – they were lined up perfectly as if he had taken a straight edge to them.

Mikoto had experimented after that incident. She left money out on the porch and watched as an eleven-month-old Itachi sorted though the coins and placed them in piles based on size and value. After correctly cataloguing all the loose bits of change, he started stacking these up like the shuriken from before as well.

Every puzzle or challenge she came up was met, scrutinized, solved and then defeated by the child who barely knew how to walk.

It scared her. Because, as a shinobi, she had watched over a number of small children during her genin days. And none of them had ever done anything like _this._

So of course, she knew that Itachi wasn't normal. She had figured that out all by herself a long time ago.

That didn't mean that she appreciated it when the nurse put it so flippantly, though.

"Some of the medics believe," the nurse continued when she noticed that Mikoto's attention had returned, "that he has a type of pervasive developmental disorder."

"A what?"

"Basically, we think your child has autism."

Neither adult noticed when Itachi had stopped playing with his blocks and sat there, looking at them.

They also didn't notice that he had stacked the blocks in alphabetical order and arranged them in a way that it resembled the hiragana charts located in the classrooms intended to teach younger children how to write.

* * *

She had cried when she returned home.

Eventually, she learned to cope and deal with her situation. The medics hadn't been entirely sure about their diagnosis, and so could not officially put it in their records. Soon, they even forgot that they had ever suggested such a thing when it became evident that Itachi was _brilliant_ in a way that few could ever compare.

Fugaku had suggested that they enroll him in the academy early, and she had relented, hoping that their son might finally be able to find friends amongst the other children.

All her hopes were for naught when she spied on him one day and saw just how different her child was from the others, and she wept bitterly in secret.

When she found that she was with another child, she prayed fervently that he would be _normal_.

Because even though she loved her firstborn with all her might, she wanted a son whom she could relate to. She wanted a _human being_ she could smile with and praise and spoil every so often.

She wanted a child who wasn't so _brilliant_ as all the academy teachers claimed.

When she had voiced this concern to her husband, he had calmly pushed her fears aside, saying that Itachi was a prodigy and would carve out a legacy. He would carry on the Uchiha name with pride and make the clan stronger than it ever had before.

She wasn't so sure if she wanted her five-year-old to do those things.

* * *

Then Sasuke had been born. And after a few years, he was as normal as children could get.

Mikoto was so very relieved when she had found out. Fugaku, on the other hand, had been a little disappointed that his second son wasn't as promising as his first.

But in the end, it was the firstborn's brilliancy and genius that was the cause of their clan's massacre.

_Fin._

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Extremely rushed because I'm posting this before heading off to class. And I'm late!

Originally, this shot was supposed to focus only on Itachi using Mikoto's point of view. Then bam! Cue the intro and the background for this piece. Except, it got too long, and I didn't get to focus on what I wanted! So there – now it includes Mikoto's pregnancy (which I know virtually nothing about).

I also don't know much about autism, except that my brother was diagnosed with HFA (and don't say I have anything against autistic kids, because my brother is awesome!). And we're about a year and a half apart, so I have no memories of how he behaved when he was a kid. Sorry if I got anything wrong.

_Yatsuka Hikagi _

_March 20, 2007_


	3. Frozen Tears

Teaser: The myths said that snow was really the frozen tears of a maiden who cried out for her love from the mountain tops. Well, that was fine and dandy, but it didn't really tell Anko what snow looked like. So instead, she asked Hatake Kakashi.

Dedicated to Bee-chan (A Writer Wannabee) for… I forgot the reasons why. She requested a Kakashi/Anko pairing with the theme of snow. This was the best I could come up with. I suck at romance/fluff/whatever you want to call it.

Hmm. That one warning in previous chapters about how the information/timeline might not be right? **It still applies**. It's been so long since I've read Naruto (and I haven't watched any of it), that I can't keep anything straight anymore. I guess reading fanfiction has also screwed with my sense of canon and fanon events.

* * *

_"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."_

_In the ninja world, death and pain were commonplace. Sometimes, in more ways than a normal person can imagine._

**And They All Fall Down**

"Frozen Tears"

By Hikagi

* * *

They first time they had actually met face to face without the customary babble of academy students' voices surrounding them had been well after they had graduated from the place and received the title of genin. Their jounin instructors had decided to "talk" in light of recent events and "share information" (which in most cases, she wouldn't have really paid much attention to, but in _this_ case it was an interesting event and translated more along the lines of, "quietly and subtly interrogate each other without giving away too much of our true intentions," than anything else).

So of course, her sensei had left her at an unused training area in the care of the other jounin's prized pupil, trusting that they would, as he had so elegantly put it, "Play nice," with each other. That, in their own little unspoken language, translated to, "Don't kill him," and "See how much information you can wheedle out of the brat without him noticing."

Not that she probably could, even if she tried. Hatake Kakashi was (_'Still is,'_ she bitterly thought) known as a _tensai_ – a genius, prodigy-thing that even Orochimaru-sama talked about occasionally without his customary contempt-riddled voice.

It miffed her that he was already a chuunin (correction, had _been_ a chuunin for quite some time), and she herself had just barely graduated out of the academy not too long ago. She felt a little insecure, a little under-accomplished, a little worthless standing next to and being compared against White Fang's only son. Her own parents had been nothing spectacular, and she had had no legacy of her own to inherit or live up to.

_But,_ something whispered inside, _didn't Orochimaru-sama choose you? Didn't he hand-pick you out of the dozens of shinobi to be his one and only student? What more can you ask for? Isn't that enough for now?_

Perhaps, she conceded. Maybe – just _maybe_.

Mitarashi Anko had only wanted to grow up to be a strong shinobi. This had been fuelled by the bullies in the earlier parts of her childhood and the constant reminders from academy instructors that kunoichi weren't as strong or powerful as their male counterparts, and therefore needed to learn to use everything at their disposal.

_Kunoichi_.

She spat the word as if it were a bitter, foul taste in her mouth. Kunoichi meant flower arrangements, false smiles, deceit, and illusions. To Anko, the term "female ninja" just about equated to "weakness." She was female, she was ninja, but she wasn't _kunoichi_ – not in the sense that everyone else might have thought. She was perfectly capable of punching an enemy's face in as well as the next guy.

Maybe Orochimaru-sama had seen some part of this spark or flare in passing, she didn't know. But she had been _chosen_.

And the others, she thought with a touch of smugness, had not.

Suddenly filled with a sense of self-worth, Anko turned away from the retreating figures of Orochimaru-sama and the blond jounin next to him and slowly walked up to her… (Was there a word to describe how exactly they were connected, if the term "connection" were to be used?)… fellow shinobi.

"Hatake," she greeted, stiffly.

He acknowledged her. Barely. "Mitarashi."

"What are you doing?

"Checking inventory."

"Mind if I watch?"

"Not really."

Anko frowned slightly, a little put off by Hatake's short, clipped responses. It was almost as if he didn't want to speak any more than what was absolutely necessary.

This was the first time she had actually had the chance to talk to him alone, without some poor, misguided fangirl trying to get his attention. Apparently, he remembered what the academy had been like, because he seemed a little uncomfortable at the moment. Perhaps it was because she was the only student of the Legendary Snake Sannin, who was known to have been the most gifted out of the Sandaime's pupils. Perhaps it was because it was no secret that Orochimaru-sama and Jiraiya-sama (Hatake's sensei's sensei) were rivals and held no small amount of (contempt? Hostility? Feelings of animosity? Was there a word for it? She didn't know.) …whatever-it-was for each other.

But a small, fleeting thought struck her.

Hatake Kakashi had graduated the academy at the age of five, and had become chuunin at the age of six. Did he, during his short stay in the academy, make any friends? The fangirls might have actually caused him to be more reclusive than he had originally intended, differences in age or no.

Did he have friends at all?

His father had committed seppuku not too long ago, and this added to the mystery that was the pale (she wondered if the lower half of his face was paler, or his skin simply didn't tan easily), scrawny boy sitting in front of her. And after sizing him up, Anko came to the conclusion that while he was two years her senior, Hatake was very much a lonely, young boy on the inside who probably hadn't much interaction with other people his age, and was just a bit awkward.

What if…

What if he was on edge merely by the fact that she was a human, and a _girl_ at that?

The sheer absurdity of the idea nearly made her burst out laughing right then and there, were it not for all the training she had undergone with regards to maintaining an impenetrable façade. That, and fear for being taken a fool. She hated being thought incapable or stupid, even for the smallest of things.

Suddenly, it was hard not to see Hatake as anything but _human_ in the rawest sense of the word. He, sitting uncomfortably in front of her, had become in the last five minutes, something more than just a name and a list of accomplishments in the back of her mind.

But for another human being, he didn't seem inclined to talk more than a kunai. At least kunai and shuriken talked back when they whistled through the air and hit a target, or shimmered in the afternoon while basking under the warm sunlight.

Anko would never admit that she talked more to her weapons than other people. In that aspect, she supposed that she had more things in common with Hatake than other people might suspect. She just hid her social awkwardness better.

"Do you favor kunai, or shuriken?" she asked, a little out of the blue in a way to try to get him to talk more.

She was met with silence, and Anko wondered if he heard her at all, or was purposely ignoring her.

She sought out the nearest rock next to the one he was sitting on and childishly began to swing her legs before she tried again.

"I _said_, do you fav-"

"I heard you the first time."

She waited for his response, but he didn't seem to want to give her one. So Anko irritably huffed and blew the bangs out of her eyes.

"Are you going to answer me or not?"

There was a pause where he actually stopped sorting through his weapons and lifted his head to meet her gaze.

Dryly, he said, "I've never thought about it."

_Well_… What was one supposed to say to _that_?

"So," she said, swinging her legs in unison so high that they went above her head. She took the resulting momentum and pushed off from the rock with her hands and performed a neat backwards somersault, landing gently on the same spot in a crouch. "Think about it, then."

There was another long lull as Hatake tilted his head and focused on a patch of grass not too far away.

"I think," he said, a bit hesitantly, "I prefer kunai."

"Why?"

Another pause. And then, "It feels…right. Firm." He turned his head in her general direction. "What about you?"

Anko shrugged. "I dunno. Guess my answer's the same as yours."

They settled down in this routine where she asked him questions and he answered after a bit of contemplation. After a good half-hour, she knew more things about him than any one else probably did.

Of course, there was a chance that he was making half of his responses up on the go, but that was okay because she was gathering information about him that way too…

And was getting pretty damn good about guessing what most of his nonverbal cues were.

* * *

A month later, Orochimaru-sama and Konoha's Yellow Flash met because they wanted to "settle a dispute" about some other thing or another, and Anko spent the rest of the day in Hatake's presence again. This time, she had a few questions ready because she had committed a few to memory after having spent some time pondering about random things when she was off duty.

"Hey, what does snow look like?"

And Hatake seemed to be doing a little better than last time, because he didn't act like he had a stick up his ass twenty-four-seven. And he _snorted_. Anko wasn't sure why that last bit was as amusing as it was, but it made her smile.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just because!"

Hatake shrugged – one of the many gestures he was quite fond of doing. "How should I know? It never snows in _Fire_ Country."

Anko beamed, propping up her elbows on a rock and setting her head on top of her hands.

"You probably just don't know!" she sang, using what she knew was an annoying voice.

He didn't bother to refute this statement and ignored her until it was time to leave.

Anko almost completely forgot that she had ever met Hatake Kakashi in the following years when Orochimaru-sama gave her the curse seal. She spent days, weeks, a million years trying to forget what that had been like, and as a consequence, anything that had to do with the man who had been her one and only true teacher in life.

And then, shortly after, the Kyuubi happened.

And everything went to hell. _Again_.

* * *

The next time they saw each other's face for more than a brief second in passing, she had been standing at the Memorial, looking at the sheer number of names that had recently been added. Hatake had shown up shortly afterwards, and they spent a few minutes just staring at the stone.

"Anyone you know?"

His question half-startled her, but she didn't let it show.

"Not really. Just a few acquaintances. No one in particular."

She wanted to ask him the same question in turn, but she had a vague sense of what had happened, and whose name (or names, she reminded herself) he was here to see.

"Mm. That's good," he said in response. "It means you haven't lost anyone really important yet."

Anko turned away and started walking in a direction – any direction, so long as it took her to a different place than the memorial. She was a little surprised when Hatake followed and walked next to her.

"So," she blurted out when the silence started grating on her nerves. "What does snow look like?"

If he remembered this question from their meeting years ago, he gave no indication. "It's just another form of water."

It wasn't very hard to make her voice sound a little whiny. "I _know_ that. I'm asking what it _looks_ like."

"How should I know?" he said, repeating his response verbatim from last time. "It never snows in Fire Country." But this time, he added, "Why are you asking me?"

Anko blinked, noticing for the first time that Hatake's hitai-ate was covering his left eye. She wondered about this, until she abruptly remembered a few of the stories that had been circulating between the chuunin kunoichi (mostly, the same fangirls that had harassed him during his academy days).

"Because," she answered, "someone told me that you've copied a few ice jutsu with that eye of yours."

"I don't think that ice and snow look exactly the same. And I've heard from some others that freshly fallen snow looks a lot different than any jutsu shinobi have come up with."

"You think? But they're both different forms of water."

"Hmm…" Hatake tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Some of the older ladies like to spread rumors and say that snow is really the frozen tears of a maiden who cries out for her lost love from the mountain tops."

"That's a bunch of bull."

"How about this? I'll let you know when I see it."

"I'm holding you to that."

* * *

"Yo."

"You were gone for a while," she observed. Hatake merely nodded and continued walking up to the Memorial Stone.

"Uh-huh."

"I hear," she began slyly, "that you've been to the Snow Country."

"Yeah."

"And that you rescued its princess."

He made a meaningless gesture. "So?"

It took a bit of self-control not to tear her hair out. "'So?'! You _promised_!"

"About?"

"You _know,_" she ground out impatiently.

"Hmm? I don't recall making a promise."

Anko glared at the former ANBU captain. "You're a jerk."

"Why, thank you."

She huffed, and pouted her lips, trying very hard not to sulk. It didn't really work, but she forgot about her childish anger in a few minutes.

"What's it like, these 'Maiden's Tears' people like to talk about?"

This time, he didn't bait or tease her, but stood still in the comfortable silence.

"It's white," he began slowly, almost as if he were looking for ways to describe it, or words to fit those descriptions. "And it falls from the sky, like rain – it could almost be called rain, except it's… _different_. It's really small, but there's so much of it that it overwhelms you, especially when it all drifts where the wind blows. And it gets really cold and makes your skin crawl and shiver. It's very… pretty, I think."

Here, he paused, and Anko knew it to be the kind of lull when he was still gathering his thoughts.

"Hmm… It makes something hurt right here, though." He placed a hand on his chest. "I don't know why. You know what I mean?"

Anko shook her head. "No, I don't."

"You'll know what I mean when you see it for yourself."

* * *

_…it falls from the sky, like rain… except it's different…very pretty, I think._

_You'll know what I mean when you see it for yourself._

Anko watched as soft, white flakes fell from the sky and landed on the ground as far as her eyes could see, enveloping everything in the same substance that now permeated through the air.

_…so much of it that it overwhelms you, especially when it all drifts where the wind blows. And it gets really cold and makes your skin crawl and shiver._

The wind picked up, making her shudder with the sudden drop in temperature. She clattered her teeth and rubbed her right arm with her free hand in hopes of creating some heat through friction.

She didn't, however, unclench her right fist just yet.

_Hmm… It makes something hurt right here, though. I don't know why._

Here, she raised her head to the dark, heavy columns of _clouds_ and stuck out her tongue. Some of her chuunin acquaintances had visited other countries with snow, and told stories of tasting it, almost like they did with the rain back at home.

But it was nothing like what they had said – nothing like rain. It tasted bitter, like sorrow, grief, anguish and disappointment all rolled into one.

Like the tears she had shed when Orochimaru-sama left.

_You know what I mean?_

_No, I don't._

"Yes, I do now," she whispered as the fire rose higher, eating through the wood like a starved predator after having finally caught food. The red and orange flames danced in the night, throwing specks of color and light into the otherwise dark and hopeless environment.

Anko watched from far away as the remains of her sensei's house burn down with a heavy feeling of… guilt? Satisfaction? She didn't know anymore. The ashes were being carried in her general direction by the strong breezes, making the near-white substance fall gently around her.

_'Now I know what snow looks like.'_

She had never seen snow fall before, but if it could ever look like anything she had ever experienced in her life, then Mitarashi Anko thought that ashes were a good comparison. According to what Hatake had described, there wasn't much of a difference between the two – at least, not in her own opinion.

She didn't really care much for either, anyway.

If snow was supposed to be the frozen tears of a maiden, then ashes were going to be the remains of her tears that had been burned away after having been cast off by her sensei.

Slowly, Anko unclenched her right fist and dropped the flint stones she had used to start the fire.

_Fin._

* * *

Author's Notes:

Um… This was supposed to be fluffy. I (therefore) have failed. Sorry, Bee-chan!

And since I haven't watched the anime, I'm basing things off the manga. I have no idea if some of the events are similar or different, so please keep that in mind if there are some discrepancies.

I feel like I haven't written anything in forever. What do you guys think of this piece?

_Yatsuka Hikagi_

_May 16, 2007_


	4. Stay Alive

Teaser: It isn't until three hours after Itachi comes home from his first extended away-mission that Mikoto realizes something is wrong.

Warnings: Character death(s).

Notes: Written because I like to explore somewhat-serious issues with Itachi and, consequently, Mikoto. I'm trying something new with the style, so I apologize if this shot is less effective than the previous ones. (And in case you haven't noticed, I am completely lazy when it comes to teasers.)

Just some speculation about the current manga chapters. I'm just a bit disappointed that some of my earlier one-shots have all been neutralized because of canon events. And at the fact that some readers don't bother to note the publication dates on said shots and try to "correct" my "mistakes" without seeing that the pieces were written months (in some cases, _years_) before there were any clarifications from Kishimoto.

Also, I am considering Mikoto to be an Uchiha by birth. When there is more substantial evidence otherwise, I'll write another shot – but until then, I'll make an educated guess and say that they marry within the clan.

On a last note, present tense is a killer. I am _so_ not used to writing in it.

* * *

"_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."_

_In the ninja world, death and pain were commonplace. Sometimes, in more ways than a normal person can imagine._

**And They All Fall Down**

"Stay Alive"

By Hikagi

* * *

It isn't until three hours after Itachi comes home from his first extended away-mission that Mikoto realizes something is wrong.

At first, she merely assumes that her firstborn is just tired and in need of his rest. She is quickly proven wrong when she goes to call Itachi to dinner and finds him collapsed on the floor.

It takes her a few seconds to get over her shock, and by then she's already by his side and propping him into a more comfortable position. She holds him tightly in her arms knowing that while there seems to be nothing wrong with her child, her instincts make her nervous with worry and doubt. As a (retired) jounin of Konoha, she has the cultivated knowledge that Itachi is just fine, that the only signs outward harm are the small scrapes on his arms and the dark lines of strains under his sleep-deprived eyes.

But the knowledge doesn't ease the awful, tight sensation in her stomach.

"Itachi," she says, trying to rouse her son. "Itachi, wake up."

He stirs, his face scrunching up into something resembling a frown. She tries to encourage him by murmuring soft, soothing sounds into his ear.

She knows he is fully awake when he tries to sit up by himself, so she gives him space by releasing her hold on him. She then realizes that she had been holding her breath, and seeing him awake makes her sigh in relief.

_He is only seven – not even eight yet._

"Mother," he greets. He bows his head in deference and as a sign of respect – an old tradition she hasn't been able to get him to stop. It is a sort of ritual between them, one that they have kept going ever since Fugaku had drilled in the proper etiquette rules to his prospective clan heir.

_What happened to my little boy?_

"Son," she replies with an overtly exaggerated tone of solemnity (something that her eldest child had had trouble placing the first few times she had done this) in her voice. This usually gets him to look at her if he is in one of his better moods.

Itachi noticeably doesn't look up. Mikoto is now more worried than before.

"Itachi, is something wrong?"

He shifts, still unwilling to meet her gaze. "I do not know what you mean. My current physical health has been attended to after my debriefing with Hokage-sama."

There is something about his choice of words that sets Mikoto on edge, and she looks over her son even more closely than before. He has positioned himself so that he is sitting before her with his hands on his lap, feet tucked under his legs in the traditional kneel required of formal meetings. Nothing seems too out of the ordinary until she sees that his usual confidence (and, dare she say it? – arrogance) is lacking in his posture.

_Physical__ health, he says. Then there is something wrong with his emotional or mental stability?_

"Itachi," she orders, more harshly than she had originally intended. But she doesn't register the tone in her voice, because there is something that is skittering on the edge of her senses – something _important_ that she knows she is missing. "Tell me about your mission."

He nods in agreement, but she can tell he is doing this merely to humor her. "The mission was a success. The Daimyo was safely escorted back to his castle." Or was it to try to get her to go away? His voice sounds more monotonous than usual, and it has none of his normal inflections that allow her to read his moods.

She doesn't press him when he pauses after the first two sentences, hoping that whatever else has happened is of nothing consequential in regards to her (hopefully) over-paranoid senses.

"What about your teammates?" she tries after a few minutes. Her worry is growing with each second he remains silent.

Itachi blinks and quickly shakes his head as if to ward off an unwanted thought.

"I-" He stops.

"Itachi?"

The feeling intensifies.

"I…" He lets out a sigh before trying to compose himself. "What about them?"

"_Itachi,_" she says again, trying to convey in just one word what exactly she is unable to say with even a thousand.

Eventually, he understands her unspoken desires and concerns. He looks up, and Mikoto gasps. She is glad that she is not standing, because she is sure that she would have fought to remain so.

Her son's eyes are red with the ever-familiar Sharingan bloodlimit.

Suddenly, she knows what had happened to his teammates, and why Itachi seems so frail compared to his usual self. The Sharingan usually doesn't appear unless something life-threatening has occurred.

_Not even eight years old yet._

At first she doesn't believe it, hoping that it is merely a trick of the light. After all, some members of their clan don't ever even awaken their eyes despite the many years they had been shinobi. And the average age for an Uchiha to awaken their Sharingan is around their tenth year.

But then Itachi just _looks_ at her, and this confirms that it is no trick at all.

Inwardly, she curses her forefathers and the existence of their damnable bloodline.

Why does it have to be her firstborn? Why couldn't the mission have gone smoothly? Why does Itachi have to be cursed with a strong talent?

She is angry at her husband, her clan, Konoha – everything that she figures eventually contributed to the state her son is in.

_Please_, she thinks, as she tries to sooth Itachi by singing a few lullabies and rocking him gently back and forth with a hand placed comfortably on his back. _Let this all be a dream. Let me wake up to find Itachi unchanged. Or if nothing else, let me find some way to make this all better. I don't want my son to go through the same turmoil that incapitated hundreds of shinobi before him._

* * *

She doesn't know what to do anymore, so Mikoto numbly excuses herself and leaves to prepare dinner, hoping that the familiar routine would do…something for her. On the way to the kitchen, she sees her husband poring over an old scroll, and she stops to greet him.

"Is Itachi back yet?" he asks.

She is still on autopilot and distractedly answers, "Yes. He is in his room."

"I heard from the Sandaime that his Sharingan awoke."

She is startled that her husband already knows, but prides herself on her composure when she doesn't show it. "Oh. Is that so?"

He looks at the wall, focusing on something she (or anyone else, for that matter) can see. "Mikoto, I need to show you something." His voice sounds oddly reluctant and strained.

"Can't it wait until later?" She wants to go back to the kitchen. Dinner is waiting. But what to cook? Itachi must be hungry after his missio– _no,_ _don't think about it_ – after having just returned home. Something filling, she supposes. Oh, Sasuke needs to be fed. Do they have enough formula left in storage, or does she need to go back to the markets to buy some more? Would the baby be old enough to start weaning off of milk and on to more solid foods? Perhaps th-

Fugaku apparently sees that Mikoto is distracted, because he grabs her wrist before she can leave. "No. I want you to understand – this is a secret scroll. No one save for previous clan heads even know it exists."

The touch of another human being slowly brings her out of her thoughts, but she is unable to say anything more than a simple, "Why?"

He hesitates, and she sees in his eyes that he is debating something within. He seems to come to a conclusion, because he brings her further inside the room and starts explaining.

"This scroll was written by Uchiha Madara…"

* * *

When she finally does get around to making dinner, it is with an air of absent-mindedness and grief.

_That__ was the reason why Fugaku had insisted on having at least two children – why all the other mothers in the Uchiha clan had more than one child, even if no one knew the specifics of __why__?_

In a sudden fit of depression and pessimism, she figures that the clan is forever doomed to be caught in a never-ending cycle of misfortune and pain, of hate and struggle, of power-lust and turmoil.

If so, is there a reason to contribute any more to the process? Had Uchiha Madara known what he was getting himself into when it happened?

_Does it matter anymore?_

But then she sees Sasuke – baby Sasuke playing gleefully on the floor, Itachi not too far away – and she feels some spark of hope ignite. It is obvious that Itachi dotes on the small child, even though he would never admit to doing so.

* * *

Later, after they are finished eating, Fugaku starts to pull Itachi aside, and Mikoto starts to worry again.

"Husband," she calls. "I'm not sure if this is right."

"Itachi is old enough to know."

She doesn't agree. _Only seven years old. Not even eight._ "I have a bad feeling."

"Don't worry. Things will turn out okay."

* * *

But Fugaku is proven wrong when Mikoto comes home one day and finds her husband lying in a pool of his own blood with a kunai sticking out from his gut.

She turns in wide-eyed fear, taking care not to upset her stomach incase it damages the new baby growing in her womb.

By the time she brings the shuriken out of her side pouch to block Itachi's sword, it is too late. She only has enough time to register that Sasuke is due back any minute now before she feels pain and her world tilts sideways.

"Itachi," she calls one last time as her vision starts turning black. "How did everything turn out so wrong?"

A sudden thought shoots through her. _The baby – there's no way that it would…_

_I don't even know if it's a girl or a boy yet._

_Pain. Denial. Regret. Sadness. Injustice. Confusion._

_Thirteen, not even fourteen yet._

_Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy?_

The last thing she sees before dying is the pinwheel of her son's eyes and a fleeting notion that Madara's "gift" to the Uchiha clan had ultimately been its curse as well.

_Sasuke,_ she thinks to herself, trying to remember what her second child looks like._ Please stay __alive_.

_Fin._

* * *

Author's Notes:

Funnily enough, would you guys believe me if I told you that I was inspired by that one giraffe-stuck-in-a-sand-pit video?

And now that I look back, this shot sounds a lot like "Defective Blood"… And no, the third child is not in canon. I'm not even sure if half the stuff here is accurate. But you guys know the drill by now, no?

I should be writing my papers. I have an eight-paged one due in less than two hours, and I'm about three-quarters-of-the-way there.

_Yatsuka Hikagi_

_April 22, 2008_


	5. Blank

Teaser: He doesn't really understand what it means to be human.

Warnings: Character death. Language, towards the very end.

Notes: I seriously need to study grammar more. This has given me a harder time than it should have. D:

Also, there are a lot of things that are making me cringe in this fic. But I can't seem to fix anything at the moment, so this is what you get. Sorry.

* * *

"_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."_

_In the ninja world, death and pain were commonplace. Sometimes, in more ways than a normal person can imagine._

**And They All Fall Down**

"Blank"

By Hikagi

* * *

He is like an empty slate – blank, unmarked, unremarkable, unknown, and unnamed – like a canvas that has yet to capture an artist's attention with vivid colors or a series of imaginative ideas. The people around him don't know what to make of him, and he doesn't do anything to help them in that aspect. They don't know his age, his job (or even the fact that he has one), his skills, or his name.

He doesn't have one – a name, that is.

Or, perhaps, he has too many of them? (1)

They wouldn't understand that.

And he in turn doesn't understand _them_.

Instead, he does his best to be emotionless, to reflect everything around him with ease and skill so as to divert attention away from his personal life, or his lack of one. He smiles when they smile, (though it is more of a small quirk than anything genuine), listens attentively when they talk, makes a few sounds that _might_ sound like a chuckle when they tell jokes, and nods his head in greetings whenever someone acknowledges him as they pass by.

No – on second thought, not so much an empty canvas, as a looking glass. They could stare right through him and not get any answers, except for what is on the other side. There isn't very much anything that makes him unique in other people's eyes, save for (perhaps) his… interesting choice in clothing. (2)

…And colorful choice of words. Though he says many things – most, too vulgar to be repeated in polite conversation – he does not truly understand what impact they have on other people. He knows what they mean on a very basic, rudimentary scale, but he has no real grasp on what his insults actually imply or why they infuriate others.

And even if he does know, he won't change any of it just to cater to someone else's needs or wants. Such worries are unfitting for a person in his position. Or at least, _had been_. Sometimes it takes him a few minutes to realize that he is no longer required to be an emotionless weapon, because it is all he has ever known.

Because ANBU Roots has been the only thing resembling a sort of familial structure since his brother … went away, and it is more difficult than he has expected to break the bonds that tie him to the organization.

But that is in the past. He does not belong to Roots anymore – not since resigning from Danzo's personal troops and making efforts to become more human.

He likes to think that he has succeeded, if only somewhat. After leaving Roots, he has gone back and named all of his artworks. All three thousand plus of them.

He thinks of that incident as his declaration of freedom; freedom to choose bonds, to form them, and to cherish the things he holds dear.

Unfortunately, Naruto and Sakura haven't seen it that way. Or maybe they have, but the five weeks it has taken him to sort through his entire collection in between missions and training sessions have made them more than just a little irritated.

…Especially when he has just recently started to name all of the animals he has created through _Choujuu Giga._ (3)

Needless to say, they stop talking to each other for quite a bit. Or at least, use Kakashi and Yamato to relay messages back and forth even though they are literally standing only a few feet apart.

This breaks up their teamwork considerably, but no one steps up to mend the rift. Naruto is too stubborn to admit to anything, and Sakura is too irritated to forgive him just yet. They figure that since he is at fault, he should be the one to take the first step.

But because he is unsure of how to make and keep friends, he doesn't know how to go and apologize to them. With the exception of his brother, he has never had any sort of bonds to hold on to other than the ones made through the ninja hierarchy of power and rank. He desperately wants to keep the one he has with Team Kakashi, because it is currently his longest surviving and first.

Naruto has shown him the power of such connections, and he does not want to lose it, especially when his first attempts at making friends have been less than successful.

However, books and pamphlets can only provide so much information and advice.

In the end, it almost doesn't matter. Their bonds are nearly permanently severed.

…

So when he sees his group of "friends" mingling about near his current and most recent haunt, he is confused.

The last time he has checked, a friend is someone you have close connections with; a person you spend a lot of time with, or hold a certain amount of trust towards.

A person you would be willing to die for.

He doesn't understand why Naruto and Sakura – for all their hostile behavior towards him before – why Yamato, Tsunade, Shizune, Kakashi, Jiraiya, and a bunch of other people whose faces are vaguely familiar in the _I-think-I've-seen-them-around-somewhere_ fashion are there.

_Are they here for something?_

It is just a piece of rock – _his_ piece of rock, as a matter of fact. Not that anyone can see him at the moment, but that hardly matters.

He waits, because this group of people seem intent on something. But they merely stand there; some looking at his name plate, others looking anywhere and everywhere except for at each other.

His plate is supposed to be blank, but someone has taken a chakra blade and painstakingly etched out two characters on to the stone. (4) It is not the most professional job ever, especially since the lines are slightly crooked, but he doesn't really mind.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, one person seems to lose his patience.

"_Sai_, you bastard."

Sai blinks a little in surprise at the greeting, but does not say anything in return. It is pointless, anyhow.

_Odd. Naruto's voice sounds strange._

It is unlike the times Sai has goaded the blond ninja into a fit of rage with a few well-placed words. There is an undertone of vehement anger, but there is also something else that he cannot rightly name.

"You fucking _bastard._"

_Perhaps he is still angry about my naming all my works?_

Sai does not know if that is truly the case. It very well may be, since they have not parted on good terms. Naruto still seems irritated beyond belief.

"You weren't supposed to die on us!"

_Oh._

_Perhaps then, they have forgotten about the paintings?_

"I'm pissed off, you hear?!"

There is anger, yes. But there is also a lot of… _sadness_ apparent in the blond ninja's words. Very angered sadness.

Sai finds this raw emotion in Naruto's voice unpleasant. It grates on his nerves in a way that makes him wish he doesn't have to hear any more.

"You were supposed to be faster than that! You were supposed to be stronger than that!"

He sees Naruto's fists clench, and is oddly moved by the gesture – even more so than the shaky voices and solemn faces.

A hand reaches out as a gentle warning, resting on Naruto's elbow. "Naruto, hush. We're here to pay our respects."

But Naruto shakes off Sakura's hand and ignores her.

"You were supposed to stay in ANBU until after I made Hokage, so that I could lord it in your face about how a dead-last was able to make it to the top despite the impossible odds!"

"_Naruto,_" Sakura says with a bit more emphasis. But her words fall on deaf ears.

Sai watches all of the proceedings, noting how his paint brush and scrolls are now in Naruto's new side pouch, and his old picture book is in Sakura's possession.

"But now – now…"

For some reason, Naruto's words makes his chest hurt. It is a sensation Sai is unfamiliar with, and he doesn't know what to make of it.

"What am I supposed to do when one of my comrades die before I'm strong enough to protect them?"

_Stupid,_ he thinks, looking at his first friend.

"_Huh_, Sai? Tell me – what the fucking hell am I supposed to do?!"

_You're plenty strong already._

…

Sai doesn't completely understand what it means to be human. Being a ghost hasn't changed any of that.

But if the strange, almost painful feeling in his ribcage is one of the effects of having emotions like a normal person, then Sai is glad that it hasn't really happened until after he has died.

Because being alive and experiencing this sort of thing would have killed him.

_Fin._

* * *

Author's Notes:

1. Sai doesn't really _have_ a name. That's just his temporary codename when he was assigned to Team Kakashi.

2. Because obviously, guys go around completely exposing their midriffs. _:shudders:_

3. _Choujuu Giga_: Super Beasts Imitation Picture

4. _Sai_ is written as サイ in _katakana_.

Of course, this is kinda AU-ish because Sai doesn't die in the manga. Yet. _:shrugs:_

_Yatsuka Hikagi_

_July 23, 2008_


End file.
